


Cameras Rolling; It's A Stage

by orphan_account



Category: Unus Annus - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dialogue Light, Emotional Hurt, Ethan Is Also Bad At Feelings, First Kiss, Getting Together, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Unus Annus, i dont even know what to tag this, mark is bad at feelings, mark is stupid, no braincells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25880353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The first time the concept of Crankiplier rolled into Mark’s social media feeds, he laughed it off. Fans were fans, ofcoursethey’d ship him with Ethan, and ofcourseit was gaining traction because of Unus Annus.-OR-The fans ship Mark and Ethan; the question is, are they onto something?
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 246





	Cameras Rolling; It's A Stage

The first time the concept of Crankiplier rolled into Mark’s social media feeds, he laughed it off. Fans were fans, of  _ course _ they’d ship him with Ethan, and of  _ course _ it was gaining traction because of Unus Annus. 

Mark refused to think too much about it. He and Ethan were simply comfortable in their friendship, and their own sexualities; they were nothing beyond that, despite what the fans said, or thought. 

So he simply went on with his day, not sparing a second thought for it.

//////

_ Ethan, practically straddling Mark’s feet while filming for a video. Mark calling him out on it with a small, almost forced laugh. Ethan moving up to straddle his legs in response. _

_ Mark laughing, praying no one would notice how forced it was. His thoughts flicking back to that post he’d seen. _

_ The rest of the video continuing as normal. _

//////

The second time the concept of Crankiplier rolled into Mark’s social media feeds, he stared at it, for far longer than he’d like to admit. Since that first post he’d seen, Mark had started to wonder more and more if people were onto something.

It wasn’t like Mark hadn’t been vaguely aware of the shipping beforehand; he’d known about it during the You’re Welcome Tour, and he’d definitely known about it up until this point, but it hadn’t truly hit him until now that this was a thing, on the internet, that existed. 

Now was when it truly hit him that, just maybe, the fans had picked up on something that Mark himself had been too blind, or simply too stubborn, to see.

//////

_ Ethan, leaning forward with soap clenched tightly in his mouth. Mark, awkwardly and uncomfortably leaning forward to get his own mouth around the opposite end. _

_ The way they held it, for a mere few seconds, for the thumbnail, before Mark was pulling away, as fast as humanely possible. _

_ He blamed it on the soap. He could always blame it on something else. And so he did. _

//////

Late at night, Mark found he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned and tried his damndest to drift off, but he couldn’t.

His mind kept returning to all those moments, all those little things in videos that had seemed like sweet innocent nothings. The small kiss he’d pressed to the top of Ethan’s head after the last Undertale stream, the vaguely sexual implications of the dance-off during the You’re Welcome Tour, the jokingly calling each other pet names.

Mark  _ thought  _ they’d been nothing, but maybe he was wrong. Had every mildly loving glance, every jokingly romantic thing being real, to some extent? 

Mark lifted a hand to rub at his eyes, sighing deeply. Maybe he was looking too much into it. He and Ethan were friends, and they were  _ happy,  _ and that was all that mattered, right?

//////

_ Ethan’s gaze lingering on Mark during the recording for the pole dancing video. Mark’s laughter during filming feeling more and more forced as time passed. _

_ Mark, trying his hardest not to stare at Ethan during his disaster of a routine, having to laugh when he knew that wasn’t what he wanted to do. But what did he want? _

_ Mark didn’t know. _

//////

It took Mark three sleepless nights to realise why these thoughts were plaguing him relentlessly and to work out why he hadn’t been able to get any sleep. The sudden realisation made him sit bolt upright in bed, shock written all over his features, barely visible in the darkness.

He  _ liked  _ Ethan. No, not liked-  _ loved. _

“Oh  _ fuck _ ,” Mark muttered into the darkness, though that didn’t even begin to describe how he felt. He ran a hand through his hair, wide awake despite how sleep deprived he was. 

Mark was in love with none other than Ethan Nestor, and he had no fucking clue what to do about it.

//////

_ Ethan, pressing his face into the wubble and laughing with child-like glee. Mark, pressing his own face into the wubble in response. _

_ Amy, asking what should have been an innocent question, a joke. Mark, freezing up for a moment at the words that had come from his friend’s mouth. _

_ Mark, pulling back from the wubble, trying to pretend nothing had happened. Ethan, who looked none the wiser. _

_ Mark, who knew he couldn’t go on like this, but had no clue how to change it. _

//////

It was after filming that day, the day they’d filmed the wubble video, that Mark found himself trapped in his worst nightmare; he was alone with Ethan. His other friends had left, but Ethan had stuck around, and had, in fact, asked to stay over.

Mark was  _ fucked. _

Somehow, the evening played out as usual. They joked and they laughed, and nothing got awkward. Mark almost could have relaxed.

And then Ethan kissed him, and Mark forgot how to breathe.

“Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t have… I don’t know what came over me, I just…” Ethan sounded about as awkward and apologetic as people could get. Mark was just savouring the taste of Ethan’s lips on his, at a loss for words.

“I should go.” 

Ethan left. Mark did nothing, said nothing, and couldn’t have if he’d tried, too in shock to function.

An hour later, when it truly hit him, Mark curled up into his bed and cried.

//////

_ Ethan, saying they didn’t need a stick. Mark, arguing with him, ignoring the ache in his chest. _

_ Ethan, jokingly calling Mark “babe” as usual. Mark, trying to push down the pain in his chest. _

_ Cameras rolling. His backyard a stage. Mark played his role, and ignored his feelings. _

//////

“Ethan. Wait.” The others had left just minutes ago, and Mark had just managed to catch Ethan before he could step out of the door. Ethan’s eyes met Mark’s, and house seemed so silent, so still.

Mark didn’t trust himself to speak, couldn’t believe that he’d have the right words. So he didn’t speak, didn’t even try, instead pulling Ethan in close, trying to convey his emotions with a single kiss.

Ethan seemed frozen under him, and so Mark pulled back after a few seconds. His gaze searched Ethan’s, finding no clues, nothing to tell him what Ethan felt beyond how rigid he was.

“Are you fucking with me?” Ethan’s voice was quiet. “Is this some stupid joke?”

Mark shook his head, lifted a hand to cup Ethan’s face. “No. I-I fucked up.”

Ethan seemed to consider this, like he was analysing what Mark had said, looking beyond the words he’d spoken for answers. His eyes flicked back and forth, up and down, searching Mark’s expression.

Then Ethan sighed and leaned into Mark’s palm. They didn’t need words.

Their lips met in a soft, gentle kiss. They clung to each other, neither willing to let the other go.

And when they broke apart, Ethan rested his head on Mark’s shoulder, content in their embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this really is but take it, its 2:30am


End file.
